Poppies, by Lesley Quayle

here is the red –
of blood (obvious),
of hearts slashed open
like keening mouths,
of landscape wearing
the going down
of the sun,
here is the sap,
staunched too early
and the half opened bud,
tooth and claw (old story),
hell’s architecture
of fire
and angels burning,
in never to-be-harvested fields.


Lesley Quayle is a widely published, prize-winning poet, currently living in Dorset. A former editor of Aireings magazine, she is now a co-founder and editor, along with Stella Wulf, of 4Word poetry press.

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